The next day passed in preparation. Sarah and I went over the plan again. Tommy provided last-minute intel – Vivienne's favorite wines, topics she was passionate about, rumors about her social circle.
Marco checked our equipment – Sarah would be armed, subtly, while I'd be carrying only a small communication device hidden in my watch.
"Remember," Marco said as we prepared to leave. "The goal is the necklace. Everything else is secondary. Get in, get it, get out."
"Got it," I confirmed.
Sarah and I changed into our evening wear. When she emerged from the bathroom, I had to admit Tommy was right – she did look great. The dress transformed her from a fighter into something elegant and dangerous in a completely different way.
"Stop staring," she said, but she was smiling.
"Can't help it. We clean up well."
"We really do." She adjusted her hair – down and styled, hiding the small earpiece. "Ready to play pretend?"
"Ready."
The gallery was in the Arts District, a converted warehouse that had been transformed into a sleek modern space. Luxury cars lined the street, and people in expensive clothes filtered through the entrance. We fit right in.
Inside, the space was all white walls and dramatic lighting, showcasing various pieces of supernatural-themed art. A sculpture that seemed to shift when you weren't looking directly at it.
A painting that showed different images depending on the viewer. Magic and art intertwined.
And standing near a wine bar, holding court with a small group, was Vivienne Thornwood.
The photo hadn't done her justice.
She wore a deep emerald dress that hugged her curves before falling in an elegant drape to the floor. Her dark hair was swept up, exposing her neck and the line of her shoulders. She laughed at something someone said, and the sound carried across the space – rich, genuine, magnetic.
[Target Acquired: Vivienne Thornwood]
[Analyzing...]
[Species: Witch - Thornwood Coven]
[Power Level: Intermediate]
[Age: 34]
[Essence Value: 15-20 Fragments estimated]
[Corruption Difficulty: High]
[Status: Recently divorced, socially active, magically aware]
[Attraction Baseline: 0% - You haven't met]
[Analysis: Intelligent, cautious, likely has trust issues after divorce]
[Recommendation: Slow approach, build genuine rapport, don't rush]
Twenty fragments. That would push me well past 100 total, maybe even unlock new abilities. But the difficulty rating was high – this wasn't going to be easy.
"That's her," Sarah murmured beside me. "How do you want to play this?"
"Slow. Let's circulate, look at the art, let her notice us first."
"Smart."
We moved through the gallery, playing our roles perfectly. I made observations about the art that sounded knowledgeable but not pretentious. Sarah stayed close, her hand occasionally on my arm, selling the married couple dynamic.
And I felt Vivienne's gaze land on us.
Just a glance at first, casual assessment. But I'd caught her attention.
"She's looking," Sarah whispered.
"I know. Don't acknowledge yet."
We continued our circuit, and I made sure to position us near a particularly interesting piece – a painting that seemed to show a forest, but with eyes hidden in the shadows. Subtle, creepy, exactly the kind of thing that would appeal to someone interested in supernatural art.
"Fascinating, isn't it?"
The voice came from behind us – cultured, warm, with an undertone of power that made my skin prickle with awareness.
We turned, and Vivienne Thornwood smiled at us.
"The artist is a night hag," she continued, moving to stand beside us. "She paints her dreams, and if you look long enough, you'll start seeing things that aren't quite there."
"Then I'll make sure not to look too long," I said, returning her smile. "Though it's captivating enough that might be difficult."
Her eyes met mine, and I felt the assessment – sharp, intelligent, looking for any sign of deception. This close, I could see the faint traces of magic around her, wards woven into her jewelry, protection spells embedded in her very presence.
"I don't believe we've met," she said. "Vivienne Thornwood."
"Alexander Cross," I replied, shaking her offered hand. Her skin was warm, her grip confident. "This is my wife, Rebecca."
"Pleasure," Sarah said, her smile perfect.
"Cross..." Vivienne's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't recognize the name. Are you local?"
"Boston, actually," I said, launching into our cover story. "We're in town for a few weeks, exploring the art scene. A friend mentioned this event, and we couldn't resist."
"Boston has a wonderful supernatural community," Vivienne said. "What brings you to our city?"
"Business, primarily. But we always make time for culture." I gestured to the painting. "This is remarkable. We've been collecting for a few years, but mostly traditional pieces. We're looking to expand into supernatural art."
Interest flickered in her eyes. "That's a niche market. What draws you to it?"
And just like that, we were in conversation. Sarah played her part perfectly – chiming in with observations, asking questions, maintaining the couple dynamic while I slowly, carefully, built rapport with Vivienne.
She was smart. Sharper than most humans I'd observed, asking questions that would trip up a liar, watching for inconsistencies. But our cover story was solid, and I'd been alive long enough to lie convincingly.
More than that, I found myself genuinely enjoying the conversation. Vivienne wasn't just beautiful – she was interesting. Passionate about art and magic, sharp-witted, with a dry sense of humor that caught me off guard more than once.
"You're not what I expected," she said after about twenty minutes of conversation.
"What did you expect?"
"Most collectors are pretentious or predatory. You're neither." She sipped her wine. "It's refreshing."
"I could say the same about you," I replied. "Most people in your position would be more... guarded."
"My position?"
"Recently divorced, I assume, based on the fact that you introduced yourself with your maiden name but you're wearing a ring tan line." I nodded to her left hand, where the faint outline of a wedding band was still visible. "And you're at a social event alone but clearly comfortable with it. That suggests independence, not loneliness."
She blinked, then laughed – surprised and genuine. "You're observant."
"Occupational hazard."
"What occupation requires that level of observation?"
"The kind that involves reading people and situations quickly." I smiled. "Art collecting is more political than you'd think."
"I'm beginning to see that." She finished her wine, and I caught the bartender's attention, signaling for another round. When it arrived, I handed her a fresh glass.
"So," I said. "Tell me about the Thornwood Coven. I've heard the name but don't know much about it."
And Vivienne, perhaps relaxed by the wine and the conversation, began to talk.
By the end of the night, we'd exchanged numbers. Sarah and I had an invitation to a private showing at Vivienne's townhouse in three days. And I had the distinct impression that Vivienne was interested in more than just selling us art.
"That went well," Sarah murmured as we left, Vivienne's gaze following us to the door.
"Better than expected."
"She likes you. I could see it."
"Good. That makes the job easier."
We drove back to the safehouse in comfortable silence. When we arrived, Marco was waiting.
"Well?"
"We're in," I said. "Private showing at her place in three days."
Marco grinned. "Perfect. That gives us time to plan the actual theft. Good work, both of you."
As everyone celebrated the successful first step, I retreated to my room and pulled out the phone, finding a text waiting.
Unknown Number: This is Vivienne. I enjoyed meeting you tonight. Looking forward to showing you my collection. - VT
I stared at the message, weighing my response.
Me: The pleasure was mine. We're looking forward to it. - AC
Vivienne: Just one question. Are you really married, or was that part of your cover?
My fingers froze over the keyboard.
She knew. Or suspected. Either way, she was testing me.
Me: Happily married for five years. Why do you ask?
Vivienne: Because I've been reading people for longer than you've been collecting art, Mr. Cross. And I know when someone is playing a role. The question is – what's the real game?
Fuck.
Me: No game. Just a couple looking to buy art.
Vivienne: We'll see. Goodnight, Alexander.
I set the phone down, my mind racing. She was onto us. Maybe not the specifics, but she knew something was off.
This just got a lot more complicated.